


Always gold, to me

by salakavala



Series: Set in Stone [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Humor, I think?, M/M, Pre-Thor (2011), by which I mean Thor is pining too but it's very low-key
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 16:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14856101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salakavala/pseuds/salakavala
Summary: A companion ficlet toto dream, not hold- the untold tale behind the enigmatic expression on Thor's bust and the reason why it ended up in the library.(This work will make best sense when read as the second part of the series.)





	Always gold, to me

**Author's Note:**

> I was asked how the sculptor captured the expression on the finished bust, and why it ended up where it did. This is the answer.
> 
> Also, I picked the title from the song Always Gold by Radical Face.

 

 

“Your majesty, just-- would you. _Please._ Keep your head as I instructed?”

“Oh, sorry,” the Crown Prince utters absently and has at least the decency to look chastised. And with good reason, for it is the fourth time that Heidrun has had to repeat herself. Honestly, one more time and His Grace will celebrate his coronation in Valhalla. Or simply be remembered as the least flattering profile in the entire royal lineage, and that’s including Ymir. Of these two threats, Heidrun has reason to suspect, it is the latter that would yield a more effective response.

Exasperated, she drops the blob of clay that is to become her reference for Prince Thor’s bust and stalks, once again, over to correct the posture of his head and shoulders. While she’s at it, she subtly takes a peek at what keeps distracting the Crown Prince so.

The mystery reveals itself the moment Heidrun casually glances out of the window into the royal gardens, and she’s _this_ close to snorting out loud, only managing to refrain from doing so due to her long experience as a sculptor – she’s created so many statues that her face has very nearly become one. She does, however, roll her eyes, but only because she can turn the Prince’s head away under the pretence of correcting his pose.

“Ouhh, my lady! Surely you do not mean to immortalise me as an owl!”

“I simply mean to find the best angle to accentuate Your Majesty’s strong jaw,” she responds absent-mindedly, grabbing the line from her reservoir of Excuses For Difficult Models without missing a beat. But inside, her mind is working.

Predictably, it is the second prince who rivals Heidrun for Thor’s attention, and, just as predictably, it is not Heidrun who’s winning. It has only ever been the second prince of Asgard who manages to hold Prince Thor’s attention so consistently and unconditionally, in particular when he’s focusing on his spells, as now. Heidrun can only see his profile (a profile she can’t wait to be commissioned to reveal from within a block of granite), but her deft eye still catches the way Prince Loki’s brow furrows in concentration, one hand holding the book open in the light breeze, the other apparently struggling to contain some magic trick or other.

It’s quite amusing and all, but what she really needs is for the Crown Prince to miraculously obtain some sliver of self-control, so that she can _finally_ finish her draft.

Thor’s head twitches towards the window in spite of her frankly ungentle grip.

Heidrun sighs. She’s old enough to recognise defeat on the rare occasion that it dares cross her path.

“Perhaps we ought to turn Your Majesty a little. Let’s say – a little to the right – a little more – yes, that’s it, now let your grace fall out of the window.”

“What?”

“Gaze, Your Majesty. Let your gaze fall out of the window and upon the garden.”

Surprisingly, she catches a faint blush on the golden skin of her model. Were she a painter, she might wish to immortalise that, too. But, as it stands, what matters to her is the shape, not colour. A worthy eye distinguishes colours in shapes, anyway. “The light is better this way,” she says, because what she wants is to finish her job, not challenge the Crown Prince into proving that he can, in fact, sit still for an hour or two. Heidrun quite likes to think she’ll be home by sunset.

Her job gets considerably easier after that. Contrary to what she said, the light falls too directly on Prince Thor’s face, creating shadows where they aren’t needed, but such is life. This way she at least has finally that line of nose where she wants it. And she actually quite likes the fond and a little thoughtful expression that takes over the Crown Prince’s features once he relaxes into his pose. It’s good counterbalance for all the appropriately serious and fierce faces that are to be scattered on all the streets and squares of Asgard.

Yes, Heidrun thinks, finally letting her hands live the life that the Norns once granted them. Perhaps this one should be placed somewhere more private than a public market place; after all, the people need to see their future King and Protector of the Realms in a certain light.

Well, the _where_ is hardly her concern – let that oaf Herleifr rack his brain once in a while since he’s so eager to hear his own voice.

 _However_ , Heidrun thinks, hearing vicious cursing from the gardens and watching an affectionate smile brighten the Crown Prince’s entire countenance. _I might have a suggestion_.

*


End file.
